


HPRick and MoRty

by LORDXVNV



Category: HPMOR - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, Rick and Morty
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, HPMOR Universe, Humor, I'm Sorry, Inappropriate Humor, Pickle - Freeform, Sane Tom Riddle, Satire, Spoilers, ooc but is it really?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LORDXVNV/pseuds/LORDXVNV
Summary: What if Harry and Quirrell in "Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality" had the personalities of Rick and Morty from "Rick & Morty"?Updates after appropriate real-world events.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Quirinus Quirrell, Harry Potter & Voldemort, Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith
Comments: 27
Kudos: 65





	1. Defense -- Space

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/618718) by Eliezer Yudkowsky. 



> Content warning: mean language, crude humor, student getting beaten up by teacher by proxy.
> 
> Based heavily on Chapters 16, 19, and 20 of Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality by Eliezer Yudkowsky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HPMOR is a Harry Potter fanfic that has the premise "What if Harry Potter was raised by a scientist?"
> 
> It is famed across the internet for being one of the codifying portrayals of a smart!Harry Potter.
> 
> However, while the premise seems to be a single point-of-divergence with Harry's upbringing, it is actually a full AU, featuring for example a smart!mentor!Quirrell.
> 
> In the following work, I ask the question "What if HPMOR's Harry and Quirrell had the personalities of Morty and Rick, but did mostly the same actions?"

**CHAPTER 16**

_Context: the first Defense Class_

"So, Harry here's the most dangerous kid in the whole school? And you know why?" shouted Professor Quirrell drunkenly at the class.

"Professor, you're scaring me…" Harry said.

"Go on—urp—go on, Harry. Tell them how you would kill them all you little bastard. I know you're thinking about it. Tell them—urp—them them how you would want them dead."

"W-well… I guess… I could turn the floor into a spike pit using the desk legs, I guess, and if I dropped those desks on someone it would probably smash their heads open and cause all their brains to I dunno, spill out, and I could suck out all the air and poison people and like I could transfigure the walls into knives and use Gryffindor blood to drown people and maybe if I had to harvest Ravenclaw organs I could buy enough money to pay an assassin to kill someone and I could throw Slytherins at people and, uh, if I had to kill someone using a Hufflepuff I would use their bones to stab someone."

"That's ten ideas for how you would kill someone, Harry," Professor Quirrell said with a burp. "And you know why Harry's the most dangerous student in the classroom?"

The class didn't answer because their teacher was a drunken psychopath and one of their classmates was just a psychopath.

"Because all his ideas are fucking useless! When the fuck are you going to have time to make a fucking spike trap when you're in a fight, Harry? Tell me that, you sick little bastard. Hufflepuff bones? How do you have any friends, you little piece of shit?"

"Gee, Professor, I dunno, I think you're being a little harsh."

"Oh boy, you think I'm being harsh. Well why don't I turn to the Hufflepuffs in the class and ask them how they feel about you _viewing them as raw material_. You think they liked that, Harry? Huh? You think they liked that you piece of human garbage?"

Harry couldn't help it. He started to cry. "You—you asked, Professor."

"Yeah, and you know what you could've done? _Refused_. But you didn't, and you won't, Harry. You'll just keep-urp-keep looking like an asshole every time gives you a chance to look clever. You little bootlicker."

* * *

**CHAPTER 19**

_Context: Harry has been questioned by Professor Snape, and stormed out of the first potions in class in response. Somehow, he got Snape to apologize to him in front of the whole school and pretend to be nicer. Quirrell is not happy._

"Alright, Harry, I've—urp—hired these big, burly Slytherins to beat the shit out of you."

"W-why would I stand there and take it, Professor?"

"Because you need to _loooooooose_ , Harry. You need to learn to _looooooooooose_."

"That's bullshit, Professor. I don't have to do anything that I don't want to. I'm leaving."

"You don't get it, Harry. Snape, he could, he could, beat the shit out of you. That's legal in wizard England. He could beat the shit out of you, or worse, get you expelled. He's playing chess with you, Harry, except you're playing tic-tac-toe and you've put three pawns in a line. You should've rolled over and learned to lose."

Well, actually, the stakes had been the fate of magical Britain, apparently, but Quirrell didn't need to know that.

"Anyways—burp—these Slytherins are here to beat the shit out of you and you're going to take it."

"Aw, come on, Professor, does it have to be in front of the whole class?"

Hermione was in the class.

"That's the fucking point of public humiliation, Harry—burp—it's public so you don't do it again. And it's funnier this way."

"Professor, I'm going to get very angry if this happens, and then I might—"

"Oh so you'll throw a fucking temper tantrum? Cry me a fucking river, Harry. Cry me a fucking river. They're not going to kill you, they're just going to hurt you bad enough that you stop being such a little stupid shit."

Harry accepted his fate.

"When this is over, Professor, you and me, we're gonna, we're gonna have a long talk about how you treat me."

"Oh, we will, Harry. We will."

* * *

**Chapter 20**

_Context: the immediate aftermath of Harry getting the shit kicked out of him by older Slytherin bullies._

"I'm—I'm emotionally abusing you, Harry. And you're not going to do anything about it—burp."

"Why—why wouldn't I just go to tell Dumbledore or McGonagall what you're doing, Professor? Why—why would I protect you?"

"Because then I'll you how much of a sociopathic little shit you are, Harry—burp. I'll tell them how you like to fantasize about Hufflepuff bones. And then they'll thank me, Harry. They'll thank me for beating the shit out of you so you don't become the next Dark Lord."

"That's not true, I'm—I'm a good person. I'm a good person, probably. I just have a mysterious dark side."

"That's called a temper, Harry. We all have one, just like an asshole, and no one wants to see it either."

"If you don't want me to become a Dark Lord then why are we having this conversation, Professor?"

"To _prove_ that I have power over you, Harry. To prove that I can do this and you won't be able to stop me. To prove that I can do this and you won't _want_ to stop me."

"Why—why wouldn't I stop you?"

"Because _SPACE_. You like space, right, you technocratic cocksucker? I'm going to show you space, and then you'll forgive me completely and we'll go on adventures."

"Oh, what, are you going to show me a fucking telescope, you asshole, Professor—"

But Quirrell had taken out his wand and said something in a language Harry didn't understand. Now they were in space.

"HOLY SHIT PROFESSOR, ARE WE IN SPACE?" Harry said.

"Nah, it's just like… a video but in three dee," Quirrell said. "It's like Star Wars or some shit."

It was so beautiful. Tears came to Harry's eyes. The words of a Carl Sagan documentary or a NDT tweet came into his mind.

"Wow, Professor, this is so wonderful and cool," Harry said. "How did you do it?"

"I put my soul into the Pioneer Probe, Harry. I'm Pioneer Quirrell!"

They looked at space some more.

"Sometimes," Professor Quirrell said in a voice that sounded sad instead of drunk, "when this world seems like more shit than usual, I sometimes wonder if I could jump to a parallel universe near me that hates me less. But I can't. Because the universe hates me because I'm me. I can't imagine a universe that doesn't fucking hate me. So then I wonder if I should just fucking kill myself, because then there won't be a me for the universe to hate anymore."

Harry didn't care, because space was beautiful.

"Can I stay here?"

"Sure, do whatever you want," Quirrell said. "But someone's coming."

He stopped the space VR experience.

It was… Dumbledore!

"QUIRINUS! HOW DARE YOU!"

Harry said in icy tones, "Headmaster Albus Percival—"

Quirrell shouted, "What the hell, Harry, that's the fucking headmaster right there and you're trying to pull—pull a full rank by saying his full name? What, did your mommy and daddy say that to you all the time when you threw temper tantrums? Shut the fuck up, Harry."

"I'm sorry, Professors," Harry said. "Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Quirrell did the right thing."

"Harry, he told you to shut the fuck up two seconds ago. Also, as your headmaster, I don't think I should allow older boys to beat you."

"Albus, do you really think he doesn't deserve it?"

"He—he knew that I was broken, Headmaster. And he fixed me by beating the shit out of me."

"Is he threatening to keep you quiet?"

"Albus, I'm not going to fucking bother," Quirrell said. "Do you really think it's worth my effort to threaten this fucking idiot when he jumps through all the hoops without me asking him to?"

Albus looked at Harry. Then Albus looked at Quirrell. "Quirinus, if you take him on as a mentee, you will die by the end of this year from your drinking problem."

"Oh, cry me a river—burp. I can always grow a new liver."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand HPMOR. the humor is extremely subtle, and without a solid grasp of theoretical physics most of the jokes will go over a typical reader’s head. There's also Harry's rationalistic outlook, which is deftly woven into his characterisation- his personal philosophy draws heavily from 80s sci-fi literature, for instance. The fans understand this stuff; they have the intellectual capacity to truly appreciate the depths of these jokes, to realise that they're not just funny- they say something deep about LIFE. as a consequence people who dislike Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality truly ARE idiots- of course they wouldn't appreciate, for instance, the humour in Harry's rationalistic action of snapping his fingers, which itself is a cryptic reference to Ernest Cline's Ready Player One. I'm smirking right now just imagining one of those addlepated simpletons scratching their heads in confusion as Eliezer Yudkowsky's genius wit unfolds itself on their television screens. What fools.. how I pity them :). 
> 
> And yes, by the way, I DO own physical copies of Gravity's Rainbow and Infinite Jest. And no, you cannot see them. They're for the ladies' eyes only- and even then they have to demonstrate that they're within 5 IQ points of my own (preferably lower) beforehand. Nothin personnel kid


	2. Armies -- Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Festivus Everyone :)

**_Armies_ **

_Context: Quirrell has organized simulated war games for each year, creating 3 armies. Harry leads one army, the Chaos Legion. Draco leads another army, Dragon Army. There is a points system, and victory for the first term is decided at the end of December. They have just discovered who the third general is._

"IT'S HERMIONE?" Draco shouted. "I refuse to fight a mud—"

"Oh golly, oh gee, Professor," Harry said. "I don't want to fight Hermione."

"Why? Afraid your girlfriend will wipe your face in the mud?" Quirrell said.

"What? Fuck you, professor, she's not my girlfriend. I just, you know, don't think, you know, that she's cut out for it. She named her army the Sunshine Regiment."

"Harry, the sun's a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig ball of gas. A big ball of gas constantly exploding and blowing itself up and exploding some more. A big ball of explodey stuff that'll be blowing up long after we're all gone. It's the most powerful explosion in the solar system Harry, and it's going on right now. So, when you judge a name like the Sunshine Regiment, I don't think you're being fair, Harry. I don't think you're really thinking about what it means. I think you're being a sexist."

"What? Professor, no, I'm not a sexist, I swear—"

"What about you, Draco? You've been awfully quiet."

"I understood nothing of what you just said," Draco said. "The sun is clearly magic, but I have no desire to incur your wrath. So unlike Potter here, I will accept defeat."

"Well—burp—I think that settles that, doesn't it?"

* * *

**_Chapter 31_ **

_Later, Hermione's Sunshine Regiment overwhelmingly defeats both Harry's Chaos Legion and Draco's Dragon Army._

Harry and Draco both showed up angrily at Quirrell's office.

It stunk of cheap booze.

"Oh, hello, boys," slurred Quirrell, as he took another swig from a bottle. "Sorry—burp—I've let myself go."

"Oh god, Professor why are you doing this?" Harry said. "Why are you destroying your liver? Oh god, why?"

"Potter raises a good point on why you are engaging in pointlessly self-destructive behavior," Draco said.

"It wasn't supposed to fucking work!" Quirrell said. "She was supposed to learn a lesson about self-reliance or some shit like that when the assholes I put on her team tore each other apart, but no, she really did beat the two of you with the power of friendship."

"Oh gee, what do you mean Professor?"

Quirrell threw a ball of paper at them. Harry caught it and uncrumpled it.

Draco read the names out loud. "Weasley, Zabini, Bones, Macmillan, Goldstein—hey, you gave Granger all the good strategists!"

Quirrell burped loudly. "It's not like either of you two assholes would've asked for their help. But don't worry. The year's still young. I got plenty of time left to make plans to destroy her faith in humanity. From now on, these war games can have traitors on each team. Have fun with that, you pieces of shit. It's what you fucking deserve."

* * *

**_Chapter 33_ **

_Quirrell allows members of the armies to betray each other._ _Everyone betrays each other. It's no longer fun for anyone except Harry._

"Professor Quirrell, this is insanity," Draco said flatly. "This isn't Slytherin any more, it's just..." Draco was at a loss for words. He waved his hands helplessly. "You can't possibly do any real plots with all this stuff going on. Last battle, one of my soldiers faked his own suicide. We have Hufflepuffs trying to plot, and they think they can, but they can't. Things just happen at random now, it doesn't have anything to do with who's cleverest, or which army fights best, it's..."

"I agree with Mr. Malfoy," said Granger in the tones of someone who hadn't ever expected to hear herself saying those words. "Allowing traitors isn't working, Professor Quirrell."

Professor Quirrell took a drink. "Aw gee that's sure terrible. That's so terrible. Cry me a river. I guess I can stop the traitors. If you all unanimously agree. Such a real pity, the armbands were—burp—they were right on brand. What do you think, Harry."

"I'm all for it," Harry said.

"Oh, and why is that, Harry?"

"Because—because I think I can do it better than them and this is my chance to win!" Harry said. "I'm not going to let feelings get in my way. That's what you taught us, Professor. Besides, it's just a game, right? So—so it sounds like you two are just being, you know, sore losers. Because I'm winning. So suck it!"

"Oh no. So terrible," said Quirrell, taking a drink. "Guess you two need to deal with it. That's life for you. Wubba lubba dub dub."

When they were out of earshot, Draco said to Hermione, "You may be a filthy mudblood, but if you kill Potter, I will help you escape justice."

"Give me some credit, Malfoy, I've read enough true crime to know how to hide a body."

"Right, but I'll help you with the stuff that leads up to the murder."

* * *

**_Chapters 34-35_ **

_Through a series of contrivances, one army battle ends in a tie. This is because of the traitors. The calendar year has ended, however, so it is time for victory speeches._

"General Granger and I would both like to say," Draco said in his most formal voice, knowing it was being amplified and heard, "that we will no longer accept the help of any traitors. And if, in any battle, we find that Potter has accepted traitors from either of our armies, we will join forces to crush him."

"I agree completely with General Malfoy," said Granger standing beside him, her high voice clear and strong. "Neither of us will use traitors, and if General Potter does, we will wipe him off the battlefield."

"Oh goodie. You linked arms and are singing Kumbaya," Quirrell said. "I'd congratulate you, but this easy peace is going to fall soon enough, like it always does. What about you, Harry?"

"Nah fam, you guys are like, being sore losers," Harry said. "If you—if you want to betray your army to mine, I'm like, I'm all for it. And if you don't like it, you can suck it! So come on and betray to the Chaos Legion, baby! Chaos rules!"

When he stopped talking, he failed to notice that everyone was glaring at him hatefully.

"Okay. Well," Quirrell said. "I guess I need to change my speech a little, thanks to this piece of shit right here. Being united is good—"

He cleared his throat and gave a speech. Soon, it was over.

"And that's why—burp—you should've adopted wizard fascism when Voldemort was going to win," Quirrell said, finishing a long speech describing how he would've adopted fascism to win the fight against Voldemort, up to and including branding each and every wizard with a 'Mark of Britain'.

"No," said Harry, standing up. "Fascism is bad, actually."

"Did anyone ask you, Harry? Are you fucking contradicting me in public, you little piece of shit?"

"I—I—I—"

"Can you say why fascism is bad, actually? No? Then shut the fuck up."

"It's bad because it's unfair and makes you weak," Harry said.

"'It's bad because it's unfair and makes you weak'. You know who makes fucking arguments like that? A fucking moron, Harry, that's who. Hey, hey, since you tried to undermine my credibility in front of the whole school, watch this: Harry Potter's a fascist, everyone, he's only making bad arguments against fascism to make—burp—fascism seem cooler. His 'Chaos Legion' is an incoherent mess to make fascism seem like a good idea. We planned this in advance from day one. We're colluding. That's our cunning Slytherin plot."

"No we didn't," Harry said. "Fascism _is_ bad, not cool. Chaos Legion is successful! I'm not a fascist! Chaos rules!"

"We—burp—planned that he'd say that too, so that he'd look flustered and irrational and make anti-fascists look like weak-willed emotional morons. Because emotions are bad, if you're Harry Potter. Now who are you going to trust, the loser who just said 'chaos rules' or your—burp—Professor?"

Harry couldn't help it. He started to cry.

Quirrell burped again and checked an invisible watch. "Yep, right on schedule. Great job, Harry, keep doing what you do best. Quirrell, out."

He dabbed.

* * *

**_Chapter 37_ **

_It's Christmas Eve, and Harry has gone home. There is a knock on his window._

"Professor? What are you doing outside of my window?"

"I'm here to—burp—give you your Christmas present, Harry?"

"I didn't know you believed in Christmas, Professor."

"I don't, Harry, Jesus was a wizard who got too big for his britches, Harry, and got killed by the authorities. Fuck the police! Now come here so I can give you your present. It's to show that I'm very sorry for convincing the school that you were already a fascist."

"No! Professor, I don't have to stand for this. Get out of my room. Get out of my house, it's creepy! I don't want you in my house, Professor—I just—I just— You're a fascist and I'm drawing a line, okay?"

"You sure about that, Harry? You sure? You sure you're sure?"

"Y-yeah, Professor. I've never been more sure in my life."

"That's too bad. I was going to show you Space."

Then Professor Quirrell vanished. Harry rushed to the window, but couldn't see him.

"W-wait. I'm sorry Professor, I didn't mean it. Can you come back and show me space?"

There was no answer.

"I'm sorry, Professor! Come back!"

Professor Quirrell tapped Harry on the shoulder from behind him. "Wubba lubba dub dub, kid," he said. Then he said the magic words and started the Quirrellmort 777 VR Space Experience.

In that moment, Harry was euphoric. Not because of some phony Christmas blessings, but because he was enlightened by his own intelligence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Just to be clear, I'm not a professional 'quote maker'. I'm just an atheist teenager who greatly values his intelligence and scientific fact over any silly fiction book written 3,500 years ago. This being said, I am open to any and all criticism.
> 
> 'In this moment, I am euphoric. Not because of any phony god's blessing. But because, I am enlightened by my intelligence.'"  
> \--Redditor aalewis


	3. Patronus -- SPHEW

_Patronus_

_Harry thinks he can't cast the Patronus. However, it turns out he can. He just needs to believe that death can be defeated, because Dementors are death in HPMOR._

"Holy shit Professor my Patronus is a man!"

"Yeah? Why is it naked, you little pervert?"

"It, uh, it's traditional in the natural sciences for humans to be naked! It means that I love science!"

He didn't say the 'Death will be defeated' part out loud because Dumbledore was there.

"Yeah, that's just what you'd say, you little shit,"

"Quirinus, is the verbal abuse necessary?" said Dumbledore.

"You're right, Albus, I'll tone it down," said Quirrell. "Well, Harry, why don't you tell us what it means that you love science?"

"It means, oh golly oh gee, that uh, one day science will discover space travel and cryogenics and then we'll all be, uh, immortal space gods with our own private stars, Professor!"

Harry hated how inarticulate he sometimes sounded outside of his own internal monologues, which were much more elaborate. One of these days he would have to sit down and write down his internal monologues in a coherent sequence.

"Yeah, and just who's going to do that? How are we going to get there, you egotistical little monster?"

"It'll be me, Professor, just because you think that I can't doesn't meant that I won't be the one to open up all of space for the betterment of humanity!"

"That's not fucking loving science, that's you wanting to fucking conquer the universe you little shit. Jesus Christ, Albus, you see why I shit all over this kid? He's a little monster. He thinks he deserves to conquer the universe and institute a galactic government because of how many times he's jerked himself off watching—burp—Carl Sagan's _Cosmos._ "

"He believed these things before coming under your influence, Quirinus?"

"Jesus fuck of course he did. The universe is a dark and empty place, Albus. I believe that, you know that, blah blah blah the only meaning in life is what we make of it and also the eternal reward is what you'd say but fuck that. Who the fuck wants to become a space god? This kid was—burp—fucked long before he knew me."

Harry began to cry. He couldn't help it. His mentor was sneering at him.

"Are you sure you still wish to interact with him, Quirinus? It seems to exacerbate your drinking problems, and you are a good enough teacher that I would like to try and circumvent the curse on the position."

"Please don't take Professor Quirrell away from me, Headmaster."

"Sorry, Albus, we're—burp—codependent. Harry and Quirrell, Albus, that's us. Harry and Quirrell."

"You need help, Quirinus."

* * *

_Azkaban—52-63_

"Harry. Harry. We're breaking Bellatrix Black out of Azkaban! Bring your exhibitionism fetish Patronus!"

"W-why would we do that, Professor? Isn't she a murderer? Isn't she like You-Know-Who's right-hand woman?"

"Keep up, Harry, I'm telling you she was falsely accused by the establishment. Burp."

"Aw jeez Professor, b-but what if you're wrong? Won't this have like, I dunno, consequences?"

"Don't be stupid Harry, this is a plot tangent that won't go anywhere. We can do whatever we like."

_Unfortunately, while this is a plot tangent, Quirrell tries to murder a prison guard. Harry stops him by throwing his naked man patronus into the way. Because of something something resonance in their magics, this knocks Quirrell out and gives Harry a headache_

"Ugh, my head feels like a rat died in it," Quirrell said, holding his head as he stirred awake, "why the fuck did you do that, you idiot?"

"You were about to kill that man, Professor! I couldn't let you do that!"

"It's called a bluff, Harry, I shot a bolt of green light at him, that doesn't mean I was trying to fucking murder him. And he's a prison guard which means he's complicit in all—all this suffering, and he's basically a bureaucrat so he doesn't have a soul, and also probably an NPC. Now look what you've done! You've fucked up the whole plan and now we're stuck in fucking Azkaban with only half a plan to get out!"

"Do you—do you just not respect the sanctity of human life, Professor?"

"Gee Harry, what could—burp—possibly lead you to ask that question now. Not like I advocated for—burp—fascism in front of the whole school before Christmas or anything. Besides it's not like anyone who—burp—agrees to guard Azkaban has any respect for human dignity anyways so I'm doing the world a favor by getting rid of him. Now help me salvage this plan to break dear Bella out of prison, and also don't tell anyone that we did this."

* * *

_Chapter 74_

_Context: Hermione wants to be a hero, and so has decided to start an anti-bullying initiative, called SPHEW. Now, however, a bunch of bullies have ambushed the first-year girls with the intention of stopping them from stopping the bullying. Somehow._

"We don't need Harry Potter's help!" Hermione said. "Girls get it done!"

But then Harry appeared. "Bullies, prepare to be defeated!"

Harry did a thing. Most of the bullies were cowering at the sight of his high IQ. But one would not back down. His name was Lucian Bole, but he had the misfortune of crossing paths with Harry James Potter Evans Verres.

Harry bashed Bole's head into the floor over and over and over again. He didn't stop, even when Bole's face was disfigured. He only stepped away, breathing heavily, when Bole jerked for one last time and moved no more.

"Holy shit," Quirrell said. "Dude… did you just…"

"You did this to me, Professor!" Harry screeched. "I just wanted to go on adventures and do science! I didn't want anything to do with wizard fascism or Bellatrix Black or babby's first politicking! You did this to me!"

Hermione, SPHEW, and the faceless, nameless bully horde looked on in horror at Bole's unmoving body and the scene unfolding before them. Quirrell's eyes shifted between Harry and the audience to the spectacle of horror.

"Okay, calm down, Harry, don't say anything else you'll regret—"

"You knew I had a killer instinct the minute you saw me and you did nothing to stop me! Nothing! You said I should man up and solve things like a man instead of pretending to summon Azathoth! You said you wouldn't help me if I did things that way! Well guess what? I learned how to kill in ways that aren't useless! I hurt him and hurt him until he'd never hurt me again!"

For emphasis, he kicked Bole's corpse. "So who's laughing now, Professor? Huh? Huh?"

"Calm down, Harry. We can still fix this."

"Oh yeah, Professor? Huh? How are you going to do that? And why do you care? You don't give a shit about human life! These hands have killed, Professor! THESE HANDS HAVE KILLED!!!"

 _The next day_ :

"We are gathered here today," said Dumbledore, "to mourn the passing of Lucian Bole, at the hands of an angry centaur for disrespecting their sacred traditions. Students, I remind you once again to stay out of the Forbidden Forest, and also the Forbidden first and third floor corridors."

"Gee Professor," said Harry quietly to Quirrell, "is it really okay that we memory charmed everyone and also Professor Snape?"

"Harry. Harry. If you drop your omelet on the ground you—burp—you've already broken some eggs so you might as well break some new ones."

"I guess that makes sense."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This dramatic, wacky, and doubtless shocking turn of events was based off of Ender's Game, which is the inspiration for the wargames! But isn't this a romantic scene? Harry shows Hermione just what lengths he'll go for her!
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!


End file.
